


it was always me and you either way

by preciousthings



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/pseuds/preciousthings
Summary: He doesn’t want a boyfriend, but he told Connor he’d find one, and he isn’t about to let Worries McHeadache have satisfaction at the hands of Dylan’s failure to find a significant  other on Tinder.





	it was always me and you either way

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> if you or anyone you know is mentioned by name, please click out now and get yourself a strong drink to forget this ever happened! this is entirely fiction!
> 
> endless thank yous go out to hailey for the beta and helping me fill in some gaps, lotts for every time dylan calls connor something other than his name, and to the village of people who read this before it was finished. you're all amazing <3
> 
> ki, i hope i did your prompt and this ship justice! this universe was a lot of fun to live in for a while. 
> 
> for those wondering, the prompt was 'I have no idea what the circumstances would even be for this, but FAKE DATING.' so here's my take on some good old fashioned fake dating shenanigans! the title of this fic comes from 'legends' by kelsea ballerini. a vaguely spoiler-y timeline is in the end notes!

In retrospect, Dylan realizes that none of this would have happened if Mitch Marner hadn’t gotten himself a boyfriend.

And like, Dylan is happy for him, like _really_ happy for him, in a completely serious way, even though it sounds sarcastic, he swears he’s happy. Matthews is a nice enough guy, and Dylan’s made it abundantly clear that he isn’t above ass-kicking if Mitch ends up heartbroken.

It’s fine.

He had a crush on Mitch for three weeks two years ago, and that part of his life is over, and if Matthews is what makes Mitch happy, so be it. Dylan’s happy for them.

Dylan isn’t so happy that Connor is taking the fact that Dylan’s the only single guy left in the group chat as an excuse to be worried that he’s too lonely in Erie. He calls Dylan eventually, after Dylan’s started ignoring him.

“Are you ignoring me?” Connor asks as soon as Dylan picks up the phone.

“Hey, you’re a lot more observant than I thought,” Dylan says.  

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“How do you know I’m ignoring you on purpose? Maybe I was working out, or sleeping, or my phone died or I dropped it in the sink, or something,” Dylan says.

“Because you’re Dylan,” Connor says, and Dylan totally understands what he means by that.

“What does that mean?” he asks, pushing a little more just because he can.

“You’re dramatic as hell, so ignoring me is absolutely something you would do.”

“I don’t get why you’re worried about me,” Dylan says. “I’m fine. Decent, even.”

“Fine and decent mean the same thing,” Connor says.

“Thanks for the insight, Merriam Webster,” Dylan rolls his eyes.

“Merriam Webster is a dictionary,” Connor says, “What I pointed out would make me a thesaurus.”

“You’re not a _dick_ -tionary. You’re a thesaur-asshole,” Dylan says, and smiles to himself because he’s stupidly proud of it.

Connor laughs, loudly and so like him in a way that Dylan doesn’t hear very often anymore. “You’re so proud of that, aren’t you?”

“Disproportionately proud,” Dylan corrects.

“Stop deflecting” Connor says.

“I’m not deflecting,” Dylan says. “Because I’m _not_ lonely, and you’re literally wasting your time worrying about me.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about this?”

“Because you’re wrong,” Dylan says, matter-of-factly, and then he feels kinda bad about it, because Connor is a good friend.

“I know this season hasn’t been ideal, and we just want you to be happy, y’know?” Connor says.

“I’ll be super happy when I hang up, then, bye!” Dylan says, and he hangs up. His phone lights up again almost immediately with an incoming call from Connor. He sighs before answering, because he is nothing if not incredibly predictable.

“That’s not doing anything to convince me not to worry.”

“ _Davo_ ,” Dylan sighs.

“I just worry you’re not putting yourself out there after everything this season,” Connor says, and Dylan knows he doesn’t mean for it to sting, but it does. For the second season now, he’s still in Erie, and Connor isn’t. He has a World Juniors silver medal somewhere on the floor in his room, and Connor’s from two years ago is gold, and like, this shit shouldn’t bother him anymore, but it does, just a little bit.

“I’m on Tinder. These things take time,” Dylan says. “It’s not easy, okay?”

“You aren’t actually going to meet your significant other on Tinder,” Connor says. “I thought that was just for hookups.”

“Yeah, well. We can’t all fall into perfect relationships with our hot German teammates,” Dylan says, and he regrets it a little bit as the words are coming out of his mouth, because he knows that Connor and Leon weren’t perfect, and aren’t perfect, by any means, but it just—happens.

“This isn’t about me,” Connor mutters. “Or Leon.”

“You’re right,” Dylan sighs. “But I’m still going to prove you wrong. I’m going to meet my boyfriend on Tinder. Just watch me.”

“Doing this just to appease me is a bad idea,” Connor says.

“Nah, maybe you’re right.”

“You’re bullshitting me, I _know_ you.”

“People _change_ , Davo,” Dylan says, smirking even though Connor can’t see it.

“Fine,” Connor says, sounding more amused than anything else. “Good luck finding a boyfriend on Tinder.”

“Good luck tonight,” Dylan says. “Score a hat trick or something.”

“We’ll see,” Connor says. “Talk to you later.”

When Dylan hangs up, he lies on his back and opens Tinder. He starts swiping, more left than right, it seems. Look, it’s not like he has high standards, but he has _some_ , okay? He can afford to be picky here, of all places.

But, like—he doesn’t even really want a boyfriend right now. He wants to win the OHL, and the Memorial Cup, and making the Coyotes next season would be pretty lit, and if he could have all of that _and_ a boyfriend, he’d take it. But he’d rather have any one of those than a boyfriend and none of them.

He doesn’t want a boyfriend, but he told Connor he’d find one, and he isn’t about to let Worries McHeadache have satisfaction at the hands of Dylan’s failure to find a significant other on Tinder.

If only he could rent a boyfriend. Like in a completely innocent, non-prostitute-y way. Just like—he can hire a boyfriend.

Surely people on Craigslist do that, right?

He looks at his phone, still open on Tinder, and the answer is staring him in the face. He doesn’t have to pay someone to date him, because he can just find someone for _free_ on Tinder. He clicks on the settings icon and goes in to edit his profile.

 _sex is cool, but pretending to date me to make my friends stop worrying is even cooler (i’m serious. please. they’re relentless)_ , he types into the top of the bio.

( _i’m 6’3 and parents love me_ , is what it already said thanks to Merks, who reactivated Dylan’s Tinder at their first prospect camp, days after getting drafted. It’s not… entirely wrong. Dylan hasn’t changed it for a reason.)

He goes back to looking at guys, but it isn’t long before he rolls onto his side and the swiping gets lazier. He didn’t really plan on napping today, but his eyes are getting heavier the longer he lies down mindlessly swiping. He locks his phone and puts it down on the side table next to his bed.

 

 

When Dylan wakes up, there are more notifications on his phone than he cares to read, barely-awake and blurry-eyed. He briefly considers just calling it a night and trying again in the morning, but he has no idea what time it even is, so he rubs his eyes and sits up to reorient himself.

The group chat he’s in with T and Brinksy blew up, apparently. They made dinner plans, and Dylan only skims because he’s already missed out, but he sees a message Brinksy sent, _stromer’s asleep and unless u wanna wake him up i’d rather not thanks_ , and makes a mental note to thank him for the extra sleep when he gets home, if he isn’t already. There’s only one Tinder notification, and Dylan scrolls past it before he even really notices it

**Alex sent you a message.**

He’s sure at some point in the recent past, he’d swiped right on someone named Alex, but he swiped right on a lot of guys in the recent past, and he can barely remember _any_ of their names, let alone one random Alex who decided to message him. He reads the message before looking at the guy’s profile, or even the tiny picture above the message.

 _I’ll be your fake boyfriend_ , Alex-from-Tinder says, and Dylan appreciates how forward he is, no pick up lines or vaguely uncomfortable flirting to start off with. It’s only then he remembers he should actually, like, look at this guy, so he clicks on his profile, and—

Of every Alex within 25 miles of Erie, Pennsylvania, Alex DeBrincat is the last Alex he expected to see messaging him because they’re Tinder matches.

Brinksy, his roommate, and one of his best friends, his linemate, and his—Tinder match. Now that Dylan thinks about it, he definitely did swipe right on him a few days ago, because they’d been watching a movie together when he came up on Dylan’s phone. Alex took the phone from Dylan’s hands, and even though Dylan wrestled his phone back, he swiped right anyway, lying and saying he’d actually done the opposite.

There is a brief moment of panic where Dylan isn’t sure if he should message back, ignore the message and pretend it was never sent, or just walk right down the hall to talk about it like people who live in the same house should.

It probably wouldn’t actually be a bad idea, to fake-date Alex, because next to his brothers and Connor, Alex knows more about Dylan than most people do. And he knows Connor well too, which could definitely win him points in the ‘believable’ category. Dylan’s fingers hover over the keyboard for a second before he starts typing out a reply.

_You would?_

There’s a knock on Dylan’s door not even ten seconds after the message sends. “Come in,” Dylan says.

“Hey, babe,” Alex says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We are absolutely not at that point yet,” Dylan says.

“Why do you need a boyfriend?” Alex sits down on Dylan’s bed across from him.

“Cupid McSetsMeUp says I do,” Dylan says, like that’ll explain everything.

“Davo says you need a boyfriend?” Alex asks, and Dylan nods. “Why do you have to listen to him?”

Dylan sighs. “Marns got a boyfriend and—”

“Did he and Auston finally get together? I’m in like, three group chats where that’s been a hot topic lately,” Alex says.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” Dylan says. “Davo thinks I’m lonely because I’m the only single one in the group chat now. He’s worried about me, and he thinks I wouldn’t find a boyfriend on Tinder, and I like challenges. I don’t actually want to date someone, though.”

“You could’ve just told Davo you’re fine without a boyfriend.”

“I _did_. You know Davo, though.”

“Even if he worries, it’s always in your best interest?” Alex offers, and Dylan knows he’s right. He knows that Connor only does this because he really cares, and it’s _nice_ , but it’s also—it’s not 2015 anymore.

“I’m just trying to prove him wrong,” Dylan says.

“It doesn’t sound like there’s a bet,” Alex says. “This isn’t a competition, Dylan.”

Dylan thinks if Connor were in the room right now, he’d interject with _Somehow, Dylan’s turning everything into a challenge_ , but he’s not, so Dylan settles for, “Whatever, I still want to.”

“So, we’re dating now.”

“We’re dating,” Dylan says, and it’s still a little weird to be having this conversation with _Alex_ , but he offered, so.

“Does that mean you pay for dinner from now on?” Alex asks, smiling.

Dylan shakes his head, laughing, and he shoves Alex. Alex shoves back, and they’re literally wrestling on Dylan’s bed before he realizes it. He wins, naturally, because Alex is short as fuck, which Dylan informs him of.

This fake dating thing is going to be a piece of cake.

 

 

It’s easy to forget about the fake dating thing, because there really isn’t much to do, especially with Connor being A. the only person they have to convince (aside from Mitch, because of the group chat), and B. in Edmonton.

Dylan is about to pull out of a parking lot after grabbing dinner with Alex three days later, when Alex brings it up.

“Hey, so,” he says. “Are you going to tell Connor soon? About, like, the fake dating thing.”

“Oh,” Dylan says. “Yeah, I’ll tell him now.” He picks up his phone and sends two texts to Connor.

 

Sent Message:

**dylan || 6:03pm**

i won

or like we won

 

“Done,” Dylan smiles, putting his phone down in the cup holder and reversing out of the parking spot. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” Alex says, looking up from his phone. “I know you’d do the same for me, but I don’t know if this is ever a problem I’d encounter. It seems very Strome-specific.”

“Hey,” Dylan says. “Plenty of people fake date their best friends.”

“I’m certain that isn’t true, but you keep telling yourself that.”

“Regardless,” Dylan says, reaching for the radio dial. Alex swats his hand away, and he doesn’t have to say _just drive the fucking car_ for Dylan to know it’s implied. “It’s pretty next-level-bro of you to do this.”

“Sweet, I leveled up,” Alex says, and Dylan laughs softly. The rest of the ride home is quiet, and when Dylan pulls into the driveway, there’s a text from Connor on his phone.

 

Inbox:

**mcnerd || 6:05pm**

you actually found a boyfriend on tinder? in three days?

 

Sent Message:

**dylan || 6:18pm**

sorta

hold on

 

“Wait,” Dylan says to Alex, stopping him from getting out of the car. “Take a picture with me quick. For Connor.”

Alex nods, and Dylan opens up his camera and takes one picture before Alex leans over the console and—kisses Dylan’s cheek. Dylan freezes up briefly, but manages to snap the picture despite it. He sends it to Connor with three of the “two guys kissing” emoji and pockets his phone, but he can’t shake that feeling.

“I figured that would make it more believable,” Alex says when they’re walking up the path to the front door.

“Yeah,” Dylan nods. “You’ve got the hang of this fake boyfriend thing already.”

He’s halfway to his bedroom when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket, and he knows it must be Connor. Alex follows him into his bedroom, and Dylan answers the call, but doesn’t even get a chance to say hello because Connor talks right over him.

“You’re dating _Alex_?”

“Hi, Stromer, how are you?” Dylan says, “Oh, I’m great, Davo, thanks for asking!”

“Alex is your boyfriend,” Connor states.

“We’ve established this, yes,” Dylan says, putting the call on speakerphone. “You’re on speaker, by the way. Alex is here.”

“Hi, Brinksy,” Connor says.

“‘sup Davo,” Alex says, toeing his shoes off and laying down on Dylan’s bed.

“Congrats, guys,” Connor says, earnest, and Dylan knows how much he means that. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Thanks,” Alex says. “It’s only been like, three days, but we’re really happy.”

“How’d it happen?” Connor asks, and Dylan—

Dylan is realizing that he went into this completely unprepared.

“Why should I tell you,” he says, trying to play this off because he has _no clue_ how to answer Connor’s question.

“Because I’m your nosy best friend.”

Dylan opens his mouth to say something snarky, but Alex cuts him off with, “He was telling me about the conversation you two had about him being lonely, and—”

“I was never lonely to begin with!”

“You were, babe,” Alex says. Dylan hears Connor laughing. “So, Dyl tells me about it, and, like, I had been looking for some kind of opening for _months_ , to tell him, or to kiss him, or something. I figured, like, shoot your shot, y’know? And I guess it worked.”

Dylan mouths a silent _thank you_ to Alex, because he saved both of their asses, and this entire plan with his quick thinking.

“Months?” Connor asks, and Dylan figures that Alex is calling the shots at this point, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Yeah, um,” Alex says, and he’s blushing. Dylan doesn’t even want to begin unpacking that. “He’s my best friend, you know? It was definitely weird to go from just wanting to spend a lot of time with him to realizing that I wanted that because I also wanted to kiss him, but. We got there eventually.”

“I was, uh—surprised,” Dylan says. Alex nods, like maybe Dylan isn’t completely messing this up. “Pleasantly surprised, though. I mean, I kissed back, didn’t I?”

“You guys are cute,” Connor says.

“We know,” Dylan says, at the same time Alex is saying, “Thanks.” They look at each other and laugh. This is the easy part, Dylan thinks. It’s really easy to have a conversation with both of his best friends, and say things that, in the long run, won’t really mean much. If the entire fake relationship is like these conversations, Dylan doesn’t think he’ll have much of a problem going forward.

 

 

After a month, they’ve pretty much got the dynamic down. Connor hasn’t done anything to throw Dylan off since he asked how they got together, and he’s respecting that Dylan and Alex want to be somewhat private about their relationship. It’s not that it never comes up, but Mitch’s relationship with Matthews is usually the bigger relationship hot topic in the group chat. Dylan doesn’t exactly mind that, because it gets him out of talking about himself _and_ lying, but he knows more about Mitch’s sex life than he ever wished to know.

It's been smooth sailing so far.

They're spending a lot more time together, too, which Dylan really didn’t think was possible considering they’re teammates and only a wall separates their bedrooms, but he isn’t exactly complaining about the sudden increase of Alex DeBrincat in his life.

So it’s been about a month, and it’s going really well. Naturally, that means Dylan is due for some kind of curveball in the whole situation. It’s just the way his luck seems to work.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me you’re dating?” Taylor asks, walking up behind them after practice, just as Dylan is unlocking his car.

Dylan freezes with his hand on the door handle, and looks at Alex over the hood of the car.

They haven’t acted any differently than the way they usually do; there shouldn’t have been a big tell. They’re only really dating in snapchats to Connor and Mitch, in texts to their group chat, in facetime calls to Connor, sometimes. Dylan panics a little, not really sure what to say because he’s so unprepared for this.

It’s not even a little bit surprising that Alex saves the day again.

“Because we haven’t really told anyone,” Alex says. “It’s still a pretty new thing. I’m dating my best friend. We wanted some time to figure us out before our nosy teammates did.”

“Hey,” Taylor says. “I’m not nosy. I was just trying to confirm what I’d been told.”

Dylan turns around. “Who told you, anyway? Davo and Marns are the only people who know.”

“Mitch told Matthews, who told Matt Tkachuk, who told Luke Kunin, who told Clayton Keller, who told Fabbs, who told Lauz, who told Tony, who told Mitch, and then Mitch told me,” Taylor says.

“That’s un-fucking-believable,” Dylan says.

“Oh, it was Marner, then Stephens,” Taylor says. “The first Mitch was Marns.”

“I guess it’s not really a secret anymore, but can you at least act like it is?” Alex asks. “End the junior hockey gossip chain here.”

Dylan sighs. Alex is handling this considerably better than he is, but that’s what makes them work on an off the ice; the rational to his irrational and the calm to his crazy.

“No problem,” Taylor says. “Your not-secret's safe with me.”

Dylan smiles, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders, finally. “Thanks, T.”

“You guys are cute as fuck, though,” Taylor says. Dylan swears he sees Alex blush out of the corner of his eye. “Like, it’s obvious you’re making each other happy even if it’s not obvious you’re a couple.”

Alex smiles, shy, like he wants to hide it or something, It’s a little bit adorable, honestly. “Dylan’s my best friend,” he says. “He makes me pretty damn happy.”

“I just like him a lot,” Dylan shrugs. He’s thankful for the car-sized distance between them, or else he probably would have done something stupid, like kiss Alex. They still haven’t progressed past cheek-kissing because there hasn’t been a need for it, but Dylan wants to—

He—

He’s dealing with it, okay.

 

 

They win, and they win, and they keep fucking winning, and Dylan feels like he’s on top of the goddamn world.

And then—the fucking J. Ross Robertson Cup is in his _hands_.

In September, he didn’t imagine himself here; he thought he’d finally get that first pro season in, but instead he got 7 games on the ice and 10 in the press box, an assist in a game they didn’t even _win_ , people calling him a bust on the internet and a one-way ticket back to Erie. Better luck next time. Try again in October.

But then he lead a team that turned into a family, silver medals be damned, and now, finally—he’s an OHL champion.

Once he passes the trophy to Kyle, he skates over to Alex, practically barreling into him just to stop moving. Alex pulls him into a hug, and screams something incoherent into Dylan’s neck.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” Dylan yells.

He feels Alex’s body shaking with laughter against his. “Stromer, we fucking did it!”

Alex pulls back so Foeg can pass the trophy off to him, and Dylan is still fucking beaming watching Alex skate around with it. It’s been a long time coming, with this core and this team, and for Dylan, Alex has been at the heart of so much of it.

The flurry of hugs and yelling that is the locker room once the game ends is the culmination of everything Dylan’s worked for here, with and without Connor by his side, and he’s trying his best to commit it all to memory, never forget the way it feels to win with his best friends right next to him.

“Come _on_ ,” Alex says, standing next to Dylan’s stall. “You’re literally taking ten years to change and I want to go home.”

Dylan rolls his eyes, but buttons his shirt up anyway. “Pushy,” he says.

They’re going to Raddy and T’s house, stopping home to change out of their suits first, and Alex does have a point about him taking forever to change, but he’s earned that and he isn’t about to admit that Alex is right about something.

It’s Dylan’s turn to chirp when they’re at home, and Alex takes fifteen minutes to pick a _tee-shirt_. By the time they get to Raddy’s place, Dylan’s pretty sure almost everyone’s already there. Troy pushes a beer into his hand, and announces, “Cap’s here!”

Dylan follows Alex into the house, but beats him to the last available spot on the basement couch, practically running past him and dropping down with a _whoosh_. Alex give Dylan a shrug before plopping down on his lap, causally, like this happens all the time.

“Excuse me?” Dylan asks, a smile playing on his lips.

“There are no more seats,” Alex says, taking a sip of his water.

“So you choose my lap,” Dylan says. Alex shrugs and presses a kiss to Dylan’s cheek. Dylan didn’t think they were doing the whole Boyfriends thing here. He kind of just assumed they were going to be Dylan and Alex tonight. He can feel Taylor’s eyes on them, which would explain Alex kissing his cheek.

“Stop making me miss my boyfriend,” Taylor pouts. He throws back what’s left of his bottle, and from what Dylan can tell, it’s definitely not his first. “You guys are like, the cutest. Not as cute as me and Mitchell, obviously, but definitely up there.”

“Wait,” Maksi says from the floor, where he’s sitting on a bean bag chair that is absolutely too small for him. “Stromer and Brinsky?”

“Boyfriends,” Taylor whispers so loudly that there wasn’t much of a use for him to whisper in the first place.

Dylan doesn’t expect Maksi to start chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” but it’s definitely happening. He closes his eyes and lets his head hit the back of the couch, and before he knows it, everyone else in the basement has joined Taylor in chanting. Alex shifts on Dylan’s lap so he’s straddling him more than just sitting now, but he doesn’t seem to be making a move toward kissing Dylan.

“C’mon, Cap, kiss the boy,” Taylor says. The rational part of Dylan’s brain still thinks he can get away with not doing it, somehow, maybe, and then before he can even come up with an excuse that’s halfway believable— Alex’s lips are on his.

There are worse surprises than this, even if Dylan did see it coming. He kisses back, and it’s—Alex kisses the same way he does a lot of things, all passion and intensity and brightness. Alex’s hands are in Dylan’s hair and there’s no way this is _happening_ , except this is very, very real, and he’s kissing Alex DeBrincat in a dimly lit basement with at least half of their team watching.

Someone—TJ, Dylan thinks—whoops across the room, and Dylan ignores it in favor of kissing Alex more.

Alex pulls back first, smiling playfully. He kisses Dylan again, short and sweet before sliding off his lap and starting up the stairs, probably to get another bottle of water. It’s all he’s able to think about, even with the yelling teammates scattered throughout the room.

 

 

Alex drives them home, when it’s nearly three in the morning. Alex follows Dylan upstairs, and when Dylan expects him to go off to his own bedroom, he’s standing in the doorway of Dylan’s, almost expectantly.

“Tonight was really good,” he says.

“The best night of my life,” Dylan says, and it’s not really an exaggeration. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to stop feeling like this.

“Congrats, cap,” Alex smiles. “You deserve this.”

“You do too,” Dylan says.

Alex looks at him, opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before he does. He’s still smiling, though, and it hits Dylan that he doesn’t want Alex to go, even though he’s just going down the hall.

There’s something between them that’s palpable, electric. Dylan feels it, and Alex must too, because he’s not going anywhere. He hasn’t stopped thinking about kissing Alex since Alex pulled back _hours_ ago, and he doesn’t want anything but that again right now.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Alex says and Dylan nods, encouraging. He has to bend down a little to meet Alex in the middle, because they’re not sitting down this time.

Alex helps, curls a hand around his neck and tugs him down. It feels like they kiss forever. Dylan wants to kiss him forever. But when Alex pulls away and says “Bed?” that seems like a pretty good idea too.

 

 

The hooking up keeps happening. It’s not new anymore, but they’re mutually acting like nothing is happening, and while it’s frustrating to act like Alex’s boyfriend when people are watching and seemingly keep that up when it’s just the two of them, there are bigger things to worry about. They’re at the fucking Memorial Cup, and defining his relationship with Alex can definitely wait the week until this tournament ends. Last night wasn’t the first time he and Alex hooked up; maybe the fifth or sixth at this point, Dylan stopped counting around three or four.

Dylan wakes up alone in his hotel room, which is unsurprising, but still a little bit surprising.

There’s a knock on his door, and he knows it’s Connor, but there’s still a part of him that would rather pretend to be asleep than get out of bed to open the door. It’s an off morning, nothing until they have to be at the rink for the game, and Dylan would very much like to not move, thank you very much.

“I know you’re awake,” Connor says through the door. “You read my text.”

Dylan rolls his eyes, aware that no one sees him do it, and gets up to open the door. He does so wordlessly and goes right back for his bed.

“You good?” Connor asks, sitting down on the other bed—Alex’s bed, still made, because he hadn’t actually slept in it last night, and—

Dylan’s not thinking about it right now.

“Great,” Dylan says, but it’s partially muffled by the pillow.

“Where’d Brinsky go?”

“Food, maybe,” Dylan says. “Left before I woke up.”

“I passed him on the way over here,” Connor says, and Dylan wonders why he even bothered to ask if he _knows_.

“Did you,” Dylan says, dry.

Davo nods, Dylan thinks, but he’s still got his face half buried in a pillow. “I know I say it a lot, but I’m really happy for you guys. He’s really into you.”

“What’d he tell you?” Dylan says, glossing right over that.

“Oh, he, um,” Connor says, hesitating. “I just walked past the little ice machine room, and he was in there?”

‘So you spied on my boyfriend?”

“I kind of just overheard—”

“Spied,” Dylan says. “But continue.”

“He was telling someone about how much he loves you,” Connor says. “It was kinda cute, I dunno, man.”

Dylan tenses, because that—that can’t be _right_. It was all fake, and their real relationship is strictly platonic—or, _was_ , until last week, so Davo must have heard wrong, or Alex was talking about someone else. If that’s the case, Dylan feels a little bad, that his shenanigans might have held Alex back from an actual relationship. He’s also a little angry, that Alex came _so close_ to completely blowing it.

It doesn’t even occur to Dylan until he’s processed all of that, that maybe Alex had been telling the truth to whoever he was talking to, and—Dylan made out lazily with Alex last night until they fell asleep, and he’s feeling a lot of confusing things,  but he still doesn’t want to touch any of that with a ten-foot pole.

 

 

Alex comes back to the room a few minutes after Connor leaves, when Dylan is out of bed and half-dressed.

“Hey,” Dylan says, pulling a shirt over his head. “I wanted to talk.”

“Is everything okay?” Alex asks.

“Fine,” Dylan says. “Is there, like, something you want to tell me?”

Alex shrugs, shaking his head. He lies down on his bed and takes his phone out, scrolling mindlessly. “You’re acting weirder than usual.”

“I’m as weird as I usually am, Brinsky,” Dylan says.

“Nah, something’s, like, off,” Alex says. “We’re playing tonight. Get your head in the game.”

“Being motivational is my job.”

“You aren’t doing such a great job at it, clearly.”

“I’m not nervous about the game,” Dylan says. “I just—Davo overheard you talking earlier, and, dude, you came so fucking close to blowing this entire thing.”

Alex sits up, locking his phone and putting it down next to him. “What are you talking about?” There’s an edge to his voice, the closest it’s ever been to something _angry_ since Dylan’s known him.

“You said you love someone, and Davo just assumed it was about me, but if he’d heard anything else, he would’ve known,” Dylan says. “Is there someone else?”

“There’s—someone,” Alex says, clipped.

“Why’d you let me rope you into this, then?”

“You’re my friend, and, like, you needed help,” Alex says. “It’s kinda hard to say no to you sometimes,” he adds, softer.

“We can just end it now,” Dylan says. “Now that—now that there’s someone else, you can like, put yourself out there.”

“Dylan, I don’t want—”

“Brinsky, it’s fine. It’s been fun. Davo’s going to find out eventually, so we’ll just stop,” Dylan says, and he’s not sure why it’s so fucking _hard_ , it’s not like he’s ending their actual friendship. They’re going to be okay after this, but it still stings. “A clean break. It’s not you, it’s me, blah, blah, blah.”

“Dyls, it’s not _like that_ , have you ever thought that maybe there isn’t someone _else_ , just _someone_ , and he’s—”

“I’m going to grab lunch,” Dylan says, shaking his head. He grabs his phone and room key and leaves as fast as he can, but he’s in a hotel in fucking Windsor, and he has no idea where else he can even go.

 

 

It doesn’t really sink in that Dylan is playing in the Memorial Cup until they win their first game, and the locker room is buzzing afterward. It was a close game until the end, when they hit the empty net, and Dylan felt like he could _breathe_ again.

But it’s all—highs and lows.

There are highs, like this. Like 5 shots and 1 goal in a Memorial Cup game.

There are lows, like the fact that Alex won’t look at him.

He’s trying not to let that ruin his night, and he isn’t really sure why it is in the first place. It’s quiet in their hotel room when he gets back, both of them lying in their beds.

“I’m gonna go to T and Tony’s room,” Alex says quietly. “I might just stay there tonight.”

Dylan doesn’t know what to say. _Stay_. _We can fake-get back together if it means you’ll look at me again_. He settles for “do whatever,” and pulls out his phone, downplaying the sudden burst of feelings—feelings for Alex.

If that’s what they even are.

He’s desperate for a distraction and something to take his mind off of this, so he scrolls through his messages until he finds his text thread with Mat.

 

Sent Message:

**dylan || 10:28 pm**

wyd

 

Inbox:

**Barz || 10:30 pm**

You can’t score on my team and then hit with me the wyd text stromer

I’ll be over in ten i guess

 

Mat knocks on his door five minutes later, and as soon as the door is shut, Dylan presses Mat against it and kisses him hard. A surprised sound dies in Mat’s throat, and he pulls Dylan closer to him, which Dylan thought was _impossible_ , but okay, he’s into it no matter what.

They make out for a while, Mat grinding against Dylan’s thigh, when Mat pulls back, sudden.

“Wait,” he breathes. “You and DeBrincat were a thing, like, yesterday. Marns told me.”

“Well, now we’re not, so shut up and kiss me,” Dylan says. “And please stop talking about Marns while we’re making out.”

“I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t homewrecking,” Mat says.

“You said yes _and_ made out with me, but now you’re checking to make sure that I’m not, like, using you to cheat on my boyfriend.” Dylan shakes his head. “I’m not in a relationship anymore, and you wouldn’t be here if you and Beau were solid, so please just like, kiss me or _something_.”

“Fine,” Mat says, “But I’m telling, like, everyone about it, and for the record, this was my idea.”

Dylan rolls his eyes and walks back toward the bed, Mat following him. Mat pushes Dylan back onto the bed and straddles him, leaning down to kiss him again, rough.

Later on, Mat falls asleep curled up next to Dylan.

He hates the way that it feels just a little bit wrong.

 

 

Dylan wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and an empty bed. It feels like the universe’s way of saying _you’re an idiot_ , and he would very much like it to stop now.

There are like, ten texts from Davo on his phone, all a variation of _WAKE UP_ and _you’re a mess_ and _do you wanna talk._  Dylan wants to respond _no_ and _i never want to talk about the last two days_ , but Connor worrying is what got Dylan into this mess in the first place.

He lied his way into it, but he isn’t going to be able to lie his way out, with Alex not talking to him, and Connor already worried.

Dylan types out _come to my room in five and bring coffee or i’m not letting u in_ and gets out of bed, putting on a clean shirt and sweats. He goes into the bathroom and swallows 3 ibuprofen pills dry, and splashes some water on his face. He definitely looks like he fell asleep after sex last night; there is no way someone who just went to bed wakes up looking like this. He combs his fingers through his hair, and he only looks marginally better. He can’t do anything to cover up the fucking _bite mark_ on his jaw; thanks, Mat.

Connor knocks on the door and Dylan lets him in. Connor hands him an iced coffee in the biggest cup he’s ever seen and gives him a suspicious look.

“You look like hell,” he says, and Dylan moves to the side to let him in. It’s almost a repeat of two mornings ago; Dylan goes straight for his bed, and Connor sits down on Alex’s—still completely made from three nights ago.

“Gee, thanks,” Dylan deadpans.

“Did you cheat on Alex?” Connor asks, no easing into it at all, and Dylan kind of feels like he’s just been thrown off a deep end.

Mat Barzal, it seems, is a man of his word, if this has already spread to people who aren’t even _playing_ in the Memmer.

When Dylan doesn’t answer, Connor presses. “Did you? Because that’s like, incredibly shitty, Stromer, like, he loves you, and you just—”

“He doesn’t love me, Davo,” Dylan says, suddenly. “He doesn’t, he never _did_ , and I didn’t cheat on him, because there was never a relationship to begin with, and even if there were, we broke up yesterday, so.”

Connor sits there for a second, speechless. “I have no idea what you mean by there was never a relationship, but I feel like breaking up with someone and then hooking up with _Barzy_ literally hours later is probably a bad idea no matter what the circumstance is.”

And Dylan _laughs_ , and he—really fucking loves Connor McDavid. Not like he used to, even though that shit comes back to haunt him sometimes, not in the way where it used to _hurt_ to see pictures of him with Leon. Connor is just his best friend, and Dylan loves him so much.

Dylan shrugs. “We have history.”

“I’m gonna need you to backtrack now,” Connor says, and Dylan should have expected that he’d have to explain everything.

“I really didn’t want a boyfriend when you and Mitch were getting on me about being single. And technically I didn’t lie, either, because I did find Alex on Tinder. He said he’d fake-date me, and it worked out really well, but then we hooked up when we won the O, and a few more times after that, and then you overheard him talking yesterday, so I figured there must be someone else that my bullshit is keeping him from, so I ended it. He said there’s someone else, but then, like, fought to keep this going, so I literally walked out. Then I hooked up with Barzy,” Dylan says practically all in one breath, exhaling sharply once all of it is out.

“ _Dylan_ ,” Connor says, and honestly, the reaction isn’t far off from what Dylan had expected from Connor.

“Look, okay, in my defense, I wasn’t expecting to like, fall for him or anything,” Dylan says. “It was easy, and it was kind of fun, but then it got weird and complicated because we kissed last week and then we’ve done… a lot more than kissing since then, but we’re not talking now and mostly I just miss him?”

“I’m not the media, Stromer,” Connor says. “Take a deep breath. You don’t have to ramble.”

Dylan nods, taking a deep breath. He’s quiet after that, not sure what else he can really say after he rambled until everything was out in the open. His secrets are just hanging out between him and Connor now, but if anyone had to know the whole story, from beginning to end, Dylan is glad that it is Connor.

“Is it weird that I miss something that wasn’t real to begin with?” Dylan asks eventually, and saying that out loud feels like a realization. It feels like everything since February finally catching up with him. Like it’s taken him this long— _too_ long—but he’s finally figured it out.

“I think that just means you like him,” Connor says. “There was always something there with you and Alex, even if you didn’t notice it.” _Because you were hung up on me_ goes unsaid, but Dylan knows Connor must be thinking it.

“He probably hates me now,” Dylan says. “So, like, there goes any shot I had of something with him.”

“Why do you always jump to the most dramatic conclusion possible?” Connor asks.

“Why do you act like I haven’t been doing that since we’ve met?” Dylan asks, mocking Connor’s tone. Connor rolls his eyes. They’re both laughing, and it feels too big, to be having a conversation about feelings with Connor, when a year ago Dylan resented the thought of having to talk about relationships with Connor, because Leon was bound to come up. But they’re here now, having this conversation and _laughing_ about it; Dylan feels weirdly grown up.

“You’re a mess,” Connor says fondly. At least the chirping hasn’t changed.

“Love you too, Davo,” Dylan smirks.

“It’s going to work out, you know,” Connor says. “Talk to him.”

“Realistically, I know that all I have to do is talk to him, but do you know how hard that is?”

Connor nods. “The important conversations aren’t easy, but they’re important.”

Dylan laughs. “They give you the C and suddenly you’re a goddamn philosopher.”

“I’m trying to help you and all I’m hearing is chirps,” Connor says.

“Thank you,” Dylan says. “I mean that. I don’t know when I’m going to talk to him, but I will. Can we talk about something else now?”

Connor humors him and changes the subject to something about his brother and skydiving, or bungee jumping, or something equally terrifying; Dylan’s not really paying that much attention, but it’s just nice to listen.

 

 

So, Dylan sets a CHL record and in that moment, he decides he’s going to get himself a boyfriend. The fit of impulse is fleeting, because as soon as he gets back to their room after hanging out in Tony’s room and sees Alex sitting up in his bed flipping through channels on the TV, he forgets how to speak.

Great.

He shuffles around the room, gathering clothes and changing into sweats and an old t-shirt in the bathroom, before lying down on his bed, not even bothering to move the comforter first.

“There isn’t someone else,” Alex says about fifteen minutes later, and it’s out of nowhere, breaking the silence that’s been consuming their room since Dylan got back.

“Okay,” Dylan says, not tearing his eyes from his phone. “Why’d you lie, then?”

“I didn’t lie. You just didn’t listen.”

Dylan sees Alex out of the corner of his eye swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he’s facing Dylan. Dylan sits up and does the same. He opens his mouth to say something snarky, against his better judgement, probably, but Alex starts talking again before he can.

“I never said there was someone else, I said there _is_ someone.”

“That means the same thing, Alex.”

Alex sighs this long-and-long-suffering sigh. “It doesn’t mean the same thing, Dylan. Someone else implies that there’s another, completely different person involved. Someone just means that maybe he’s been here for a while, and maybe he’s sitting across from me right now.”

“Alex,” Dylan says, quietly.

“Remember when I told Connor about how we got together, like a few days into it all?” Alex asks.

Dylan nods. Of course he does.

“That _was_ my opening,” Alex continues. “Like, fake dating you. I figured it was worth a shot, because I couldn’t see it ending badly, you know? We’d just keep it up until we didn’t have to anymore, like, we’d either ‘break up’ and go back to the way things were, or we’d actually get together.”

Dylan nods again, mostly because he can tell Alex isn’t done yet, and he knows better than to interrupt him now.

“I thought everything was fine, and I was going to wait until the Memmer was over to figure out what the hell was going on with all the kissing, but then you jumped to conclusions based on what Davo heard, and didn’t even let me _explain_ that what Davo heard was me telling T that I think I love you, like, for real. You are so confusing, Dylan.”

“I’m such an idiot,” Dylan says. Alex leans forward to kiss him, and Dylan falls backwards onto the bed, a result of not being prepared for that at all, what the _fuck_. It’s not a great kiss, but they recover quick enough, Alex moving onto Dylan’s bed.

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” Alex says, but they’re both still laughing at the mishap from the first try. Despite that, Alex leans in and kisses Dylan again.

Dylan suddenly understands rom-coms and love songs, and thinks that maybe happiness is just kissing your best friend and not being able to stop laughing. It’s cheesy, romantic shit, but this is his life now, he supposes.

“I like you a lot,” Dylan says when they pull apart. “Like, I think I love you, too. If that wasn’t clear.”

“It’s nice to hear it,” Alex says, smiling.

“Do you wanna date me again? Except, like, for real this time?”

“As long as you’ll still pay for dinner,” Alex winks, and Dylan can’t help but kiss him again. “That was a yes, if it wasn’t obvious enough.”

“I think I finally got it this time,” Dylan says.

A few minutes later, when the entire day starts to sink in, tiredness from the game on top of everything else, they lie together in Dylan’s bed. Alex falls asleep easily, but it’s always taken Dylan a little bit longer. He takes his phone out from underneath his pillow and types out a text to Connor.

 

Sent Message:

**dylan || 12:19 am**

we still won

**Author's Note:**

> the timeline of the fic is a little something like this:
> 
>   * mid-february: fake dating begins
>   * late-march: taylor asks about their relationship
>   * may 12: ohl finals end with an otters win, alex and dylan hook up for the first time
>   * night of may 19: alex and dylan hook up in windsor
>   * may 20: dylan and alex "break up," otters win 4-2 over the thunderbirds, dylan and mat hook up
>   * may 21: off day for the otters, dylan tells connor the truth
>   * may 22: otters win 12-5 over the sea dogs, resolutions
> 

> 
>   
> i'm @matbarzaI (the l is a capital i!) on twitter and marns16 on tumblr! :)


End file.
